Trail led the pack through the neighborhood surrounding Quincy's. We zigzagged back and forth through some streets and ended up in a park for the BN, which was surprisingly still there despite the gaggle of children playing soccer in a nearby tennis court. After the trail, we circled outside on the patio, where Dip regaled us with his version of "Mary had a Little Lamb", bringing two bystanders to tears of laughter.

This trail was a new experience for most of us. We started and ended at the Field House, which is one of two official WSU bars. Trail started extremely early, like 3 minutes after the gather time of 6 pm. After a teaser of the trail leading south, it eventually took us north to the campus. Snowball fights ensued on trail, thus making it a virtual war zone. The hare took us over to the Cock Arena where a men's basketball game was about to begin and the racist-minded public was streaming into Cockland in a lemming-like fashion to witness the Shockers get the pants beaten off them. But I digress. With the fascist campus security guards watching our every move, we gloriously ran around the arena to 21st Street, knowing that we would be delighted with the shiggy of the cemetery. Battling our way through the mindless throngs up 21st Street, our dreams of cemetery hashing were dashed because of the security issues, and well, maybe the idea of desecrating the final resting places of the dearly departed. So trail then took us back through the campus, running us through a supposed Frank Lloyd Wright building (FLWN? -Wtf?). Beer near was stashed behind a generator and trash nook, but it considerately gave us shelter from prying eyes and those folks who really wanted to drink a Boxer Lager. Once we gagged down the Boxer crap, we took off again through campus and eventually ended back up at the Field House.

In the welcoming arms of the Field House, many pitchers were consumed, most of which were purchased, but some were poured from the leftover Boxer liquid the hare still couldn't get rid of. Highlight of circle was the naming of our newest hasher. NnCarol will now and forevermore be called Anything Goes, at least until she does something really stupid and earns a renaming. Low point of the evening was hash cash getting stolen out of the Dipster's vehicle. Boo. Perhaps we should stick to safer neighborhoods like 29th and Broadway, 9th and Broadway, and Harry and Broadway.

Cuddle Puncher and Hummer Gay'mes were the last to leave, and actually witnessed the bartender find the bag of empty beer cans that our dumb-ass hare left under the table. Apparently he wasn't too happy about us refilling our pitchers with Boxer Lager. Luckily, that was the end of the Boxer Lager and we will never have it at a hash again. For reals.

What: TAH3 Hash #1175Where: OC in Old TownHare: AnusHash Cash: N/AHounds: Ass, Puff, NBA, Dip, ShitTwas' the eve of "Snowmageddon"And all through the Bar, Hashers were being pussiesAnd didn't want to go far. So Anus laid a trail, As shitty as it could get, That would take them a few blocks, And not even induce a sweat. ONON.

The pack gathered at Lucky’s, ready for whatever surprises our amateur hares may have in store. Trail headed to the northwest, where we found the first BN behind the parking garage in Old Town Square. Some of our hexagenerian hashers weren’t too excited about climbing up closer to the tracks get there, but seemed to manage just fine, leaving our total number of hips broken on trail at zero.

Trail then meandered south, where we stumbled upon the second BN near the old Kellogg Elementary School. After that, the pack headed across the pedestrian bridge to the south side of Kellogg, back around to the north, and down the Alleys towards Lucky’s. For her first and his second hare, we have to admit that they did a pretty damned good job, and we look forward to them haring many many more trails in the future!

Circle was standard. Although Dip worked hard to concoct some dead bugs, the GM Emerita overruled and declared inside rules. The circle was invaded by a random drunk guy who decided that he should join the circle and contribute inane comments about the lyrics of the songs and the basic nature of what we were doing. The best quote was made by that random drunk man, and I quote, "What is the meaning of hashing?" And that, my friends, is a deep philosophical concept that we should all ponder for a moment, and then forget.

On-after took place at The Anchor, where several quite decent beers were consumed and very much enjoyed, especially after the wankers were forced to sip on Boxer Lager at the beer nears. ONON.

In honor of the infamous 10 February 1355 St. Scholastica Day Riots of Oxford, England, the wankers of Tornado Alley H3 kept the dream alive in protesting the hideous practice of being served crappy beverages. Although we missed the boat in that we ourselves did not riot and throw the crappy beverages in the faces of the hares who supplied them. Wait, wait, the sainted NBA DID, in fact, throw a beverage into the face of one of the hares, who mightily protested that act. But, despite the whining and non-comprehension of the prostrate hare, that swill-slinging was only done in celebration of the events of that fateful day 658 years ago today.

Starting from the hares' abode in Riverside, pre-lube consisted of Bloody Marys made from cheap-ass vodka, and Dip's ubiquitous $5 sparkling wine. Once we were good and lubed, the hares took off. Trail meandered to the south through Oak Park where the first crappy selection of swill, that is, Boxer Lager, was located in a hollow tree stump. After enduring that canned urine, the wankers continued on in a southerly fashion through Riverside side streets, eventually strolling past the Art Museum, and discovering the second beer near behind a stone signage by Cow Town. After choking down some Hamm's, which actually tasted like the good stuff after the Boxer we were previously forced to swallow, we followed trail through Sim Park, and eventually found the on-in not far from the river. Were we to be rewarded with decent crappy beer? Oh, no, we were supplied with even more crappy beer, and generic cheese puffs.

Our RA pointed out many misdeeds committed by the hares, resulting in multiple dead bugs. If non-hashers had passed by, they would have heard the chants of "Havoc! Havoc! Smyt fast, give gode knocks!" And we did. So due to the nippy weather and the fact that we had a naming to do, we continued the circle back at the Hood House. After many entertaining stories, nnKat will now and forevermore, be known to the hashing world as Hummer Gay'mes. On on!

Hounds: Born on Your Anus, Puff the Magic Ass Grabber, No Blow Angel, Deb's Dipstick, Phi Phi Licker, Amanta Feel and Fuck, Cuddle Puncher, Tina Eat the Piss, nnKatHashers gathered inside the Oasis on an unseasonably warm February evening. Last to arrive was the hare herself, who almost immediately grabbed a giant, phallic looking piece of chalk from NBA and took off to set trail. The rest of us gave her the normal three-minute head start before we took off in a rabid attempt to snare and de-pants her. Lucky for BP, she excels at laying shitty trails and had the pack confused from the onset, which gave her the time she needed to create a safe amount of distance between herself and the hounds. Of the approximately 41 Intersections she laid, two were in the light. Thankfully a couple of well-prepared hashers had lights, and were able to follow trail as it weaved through the Town West Mall parking lot, before taking us north across Maple and into VH1’s old Neighborhood. There, approximately ½ the pack (CP, Anus, nnKat, Dip, Amanta) located the BN near 235, while the other ½ (NBA, Tina, Phi Phi) wondered aimlessly down a dirt road until they picked up trail on the other end, bypassing the BN altogether. Heading back east through the neighborhood, the group from the BN stumbled on what at first appeared to be a homeless man, desperately trying to find a way to stay dry. But upon closer examination, they saw that it was actually Puff, who also missed the BN (and chalk talk, and hares away, and hounds away, etc...). Upon returning to the Oasis, there was a circle, an endless stream of announcements, and of course, much rejoicing. It was also noted that we had 10 hashers, non of whom had to drink for backsliding. Not bad for the middle of winter! ONON